


When the Inquisitor Bakes a Cake

by theRadioStarr



Series: Tumblr Drabbles and One-Shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff warning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRadioStarr/pseuds/theRadioStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unprompted, from a sentence meme floating around tumblr:</p><p>“I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Inquisitor Bakes a Cake

Varric didn’t know what do. 

He had just returned from the Herald’s Rest, reclaiming his table by the fire in the main keep so he could clean up his mess before turning in for the night. He expected to find his notes strewn all over the place, ink starting to stain the table again where the wet tip of his pen rested on the desktop instead of in its holder. 

Instead, he’s found his papers meticulously organized around a gigantic slab cake. 

He froze for a moment when he saw it, not quite able to see it fully from the front entry of the hall where he was standing. Who would have left him a giant cake? Did they really expect him to eat it all by himself? 

A frown creased his brow as he tried to piece everything together. It could have been Sera - one of her pranks? No, it was too obvious; Sera preferred subtlety. No one else he knew would have done something like this, except…

Varric’s frown relaxed into a smile as he walked over to the table slowly. The only other person who would have done something like this would be Inquisitor Rocky herself. 

Malika Cadash had been distant the last few days, always running past him as quickly as her little legs could carry her, but not quite quickly enough to hide the deep shade of red colouring her face and neck as she refused to meet his eyes or respond to his simple greetings. 

There had been a bit of an…  _incident_  the other night that had evidently left her horrifically embarrassed. Varric wasn’t complaining - far from it, actually, but she refused to hear any of it before bolting. 

 _They had gone down to the tavern for a drink after dinner. It was a common passtime for them these days; Varric enjoyed her company far more than he expected to, and often they would fall into discussions Varric thought he would never have with another person - deep, meaningful,_ intelligent _discussions about anything and everything, from the political powers of Orlais to arguing over whether nug was actually worthy of the title ‘delicacy’._

_The last time they had gone out for a drink, they got a little reminiscent._

_“I feel like I missed out on so much as a child, what with my Carta upbringing,” Malika had admitted to him a little shyly.  
_

_“Like what? Tea parties and playing house?” Varric had teased her.  
_

_She snorted out a laugh. “Actually, yeah.” She flushed, embarrassed. “I mean… is it really all it’s cracked up to be?”_

_“You_ actually  _want to have a tea party and play house?”  
_

_“I know, I know, Crazy Cadash, I get it-”  
_

_“You want to play house and have a tea party, Rocky? Then we’ll play house and have a tea party.” Varric still wasn’t sure what had possessed him to insist on it, but his heart had fluttered at the way her eyes instantly lit up.  
_

_“Really?” she breathed in disbelief.  
_

_“Really,” he had told her. “We’ll do it tomorrow - you’re not busy being the saviour of the world tomorrow, are you?”  
_

_“Absolutely_ not _,” she laughed again. “And if anyone needs a ‘saviour of the world’ tomorrow, they can stuff a live nug up their-”  
_

Varric laughed at the memory again, until he reached his seat behind his desk and got a good look at the cake that was sitting there. 

It was a heavy rectangle shape, with a simple white icing and huge letters spelled out in a darker, cocoa icing:

_**I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately.** _

Oh, Varric remembered that, too. Vividly. Just the reminder sent his stomach turning and his heart racing. 

For all that she seemed harder than the Stone, her lips had been surprisingly soft, her tongue velvety and warm, so full of fire and life and passion that he almost drowned in her. 

He had reacted, reciprocated only through instinct, but just as his brain was starting to catch up to what their faces had already figured out, she had frozen and pulled away, her eyes wide with horror. She had stuttered out an apology, and before Varric could find his voice again, she had run for the stairs out of her tower and gone… well, he wasn’t sure. Probably to see Sera. 

Bianca floated across Varric’s thoughts suddenly, but he pushed her away. No, it was time  _he_  got to be happy for once. It was time he stopped holding out for a woman who didn’t return his interests. 

And Malika… she was available.  _Very_  available. And… she made him happy. Happier than he’d been in  _years_. 

She was probably upstairs in her room, right now, wondering if he’d found her cake yet, thinking of all the worst ways he could react to it, haunting herself with the strength of her shame at her uncontrolled actions the other day. 

Varric took a deep breath and crossed the hall to the door to her tower. He took the stairs slowly (Damn the Maker for his short legs!), and when he  _finally_  reached the last door, he waited to catch his breath before knocking. 

He heard her voice sound out from the other side of the door, but he couldn’t make out the words, so he knocked again, more insistently. When her heavy footfalls pounded down the stairs on the other side of the door, his stomach twisted with nerves. 

_Relax, Tethras. You didn’t come all this way to back down now._

The bolt slid across the door noisily, and then it was slowly creaking open, until Varric could see Malika standing on the other side, her deep auburn hair curling softly over her shoulders, nug pyjamas securely in place for bed, and Varric didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than the way the blush in her cheeks matched the little critters on her shirt. 

“Um… Varric?”

He took a deep breath, and responded by closing the gap between them in two short strides to put his lips to hers. 

And sweet Maker, it was even better than before, the way  _she_  froze up in shock instead of him, the way  _he_  had to push his tongue against  _her_  bottom lip to demand more of her. 

He slid a hand around her side, following the dip of her waist to her spine, and then she finally melted, a hand of her own sliding up his arm to the back on his neck, where it tangled in the loose lower strands. She tasted amazingly sweet and a little metallic, no doubt the lingering lyrium from her nightly draught. 

Varric’s hand started to travel a little lower on Malika’s back, and she arched into his touch subtly. Just before he got to the swell of her beautifully sturdy and well-defined rear. he stopped and broke their kiss. 

She was so close to him, her lips a little swollen and pink to match her cheeks, and he gave up on the idea of going to bed anytime soon.

“I’m guessing you found my cake?”

Varric laughed, and she giggled, embarrassed all over again. 

“Consider your apology accepted,” he assured her, brushing her hair back and leaning down to press a soft kiss to the jumping pulse in her throat. She hummed at the contact, and Varric wanted to hear it again. Desperately. His hands wandered to the wide swell of her hips, and then he pushed away to look at her again. 

“Now… where were we before you ran off?”


End file.
